Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 3
Another room in the same.
Pompey : I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house
[p]of profession:
one would think it were Mistress
[p]Overdone's own house, for here be
many of her old
[p]customers. First, here's young Master Rash; he's
in
[p]for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger,
[p]ninescore and
seventeen pounds; of which he made
[p]five marks, ready money: marry,
then ginger was not
[p]much in request, for the old women were all
dead.
[p]Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of
[p]Master
Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of
[p]peach-coloured satin,
which now peaches him a
[p]beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and
young
[p]Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and
Master
[p]Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and
young
[p]Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master
[p]Forthlight
the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the
[p]great traveller, and wild
Half-can that stabbed
[p]Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great
doers in
[p]our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.'
Abhorson : Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.
Pompey : Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged.
[p]Master Barnardine!
Abhorson : What, ho, Barnardine!
Barnardine : [Within] A pox o' your throats! Who makes that
[p]noise there? What
are you?
Pompey : Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so
[p]good, sir, to rise
and be put to death.
Barnardine : [Within] Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy.
Abhorson : Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.
Pompey : Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are
[p]executed, and sleep
afterwards.
Abhorson : Go in to him, and fetch him out.
Pompey : He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.
Abhorson : Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
Pompey : Very ready, sir.
Barnardine : How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you?
Abhorson : Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your
[p]prayers; for, look
you, the warrant's come.
Barnardine : You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not
[p]fitted for 't.
Pompey : O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night,
[p]and is hanged
betimes in the morning, may sleep the
[p]sounder all the next day.
Abhorson : Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do
[p]we jest now,
think you?
Vincentio : Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily
[p]you are to
depart, I am come to advise you, comfort
[p]you and pray with you.
Barnardine : Friar, not I. I have been drinking hard all night,
[p]and I will have
more time to prepare me, or they
[p]shall beat out my brains with
billets: I will not
[p]consent to die this day, that's certain.
Vincentio : O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you
[p]Look forward on the
journey you shall go.
Barnardine : I swear I will not die to-day for any man's
[p]persuasion.
Vincentio : But hear you.
Barnardine : Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me,
[p]come to my ward;
for thence will not I to-day.
Vincentio : Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart!
[p]After him, fellows; bring him
to the block.
Provost : Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?
Vincentio : A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;
[p]And to transport him in
the mind he is
[p]Were damnable.
Provost : Here in the prison, father,
[p]There died this morning of a cruel
fever
[p]One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,
[p]A man of Claudio's
years; his beard and head
[p]Just of his colour. What if we do
omit
[p]This reprobate till he were well inclined;
[p]And satisfy the
deputy with the visage
[p]Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
Vincentio : O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides!
[p]Dispatch it presently;
the hour draws on
[p]Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done,
[p]And sent
according to command; whiles I
[p]Persuade this rude wretch willingly
to die.
Provost : This shall be done, good father, presently.
[p]But Barnardine must die
this afternoon:
[p]And how shall we continue Claudio,
[p]To save me
from the danger that might come
[p]If he were known alive?
Vincentio : Let this be done.
[p]Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and
Claudio:
[p]Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
[p]To the
under generation, you shall find
[p]Your safety manifested.
Provost : I am your free dependant.
Vincentio : Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.
[p][Exit Provost]
[p]Now
will I write letters to Angelo,--
[p]The provost, he shall bear them,
whose contents
[p]Shall witness to him I am near at home,
[p]And that,
by great injunctions, I am bound
[p]To enter publicly: him I'll
desire
[p]To meet me at the consecrated fount
[p]A league below the
city; and from thence,
[p]By cold gradation and well-balanced
form,
[p]We shall proceed with Angelo.
Provost : Here is the head; I'll carry it myself.
Vincentio : Convenient is it. Make a swift return;
[p]For I would commune with you
of such things
[p]That want no ear but yours.
Provost : I'll make all speed.
Isabella : [Within] Peace, ho, be here!
Vincentio : The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know
[p]If yet her brother's
pardon be come hither:
[p]But I will keep her ignorant of her
good,
[p]To make her heavenly comforts of despair,
[p]When it is least
expected.
Isabella : Ho, by your leave!
Vincentio : Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
Isabella : The better, given me by so holy a man.
[p]Hath yet the deputy sent my
brother's pardon?
Vincentio : He hath released him, Isabel, from the world:
[p]His head is off and
sent to Angelo.
Isabella : Nay, but it is not so.
Vincentio : It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter,
[p]In your close
patience.
Isabella : O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!
Vincentio : You shall not be admitted to his sight.
Isabella : Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!
[p]Injurious world! most damned
Angelo!
Vincentio : This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot;
[p]Forbear it therefore;
give your cause to heaven.
[p]Mark what I say, which you shall
find
[p]By every syllable a faithful verity:
[p]The duke comes home
to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes;
[p]One of our convent, and his
confessor,
[p]Gives me this instance: already he hath
carried
[p]Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
[p]Who do prepare to meet him
at the gates,
[p]There to give up their power. If you can, pace your
wisdom
[p]In that good path that I would wish it go,
[p]And you shall
have your bosom on this wretch,
[p]Grace of the duke, revenges to your
heart,
[p]And general honour.
Isabella : I am directed by you.
Vincentio : This letter, then, to Friar Peter give;
[p]'Tis that he sent me of the
duke's return:
[p]Say, by this token, I desire his company
[p]At
Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours
[p]I'll perfect him
withal, and he shall bring you
[p]Before the duke, and to the head of
Angelo
[p]Accuse him home and home. For my poor self,
[p]I am combined
by a sacred vow
[p]And shall be absent. Wend you with this
letter:
[p]Command these fretting waters from your eyes
[p]With a
light heart; trust not my holy order,
[p]If I pervert your course.
Who's here?
Lucio : Good even. Friar, where's the provost?
Vincentio : Not within, sir.
Lucio : O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see
[p]thine eyes so
red: thou must be patient. I am fain
[p]to dine and sup with water and
bran; I dare not for
[p]my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would
set
[p]me to 't. But they say the duke will be here
[p]to-morrow. By
my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother:
[p]if the old fantastical duke
of dark corners had been
[p]at home, he had lived.
Vincentio : Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your
[p]reports; but
the best is, he lives not in them.
Lucio : Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do:
[p]he's a better
woodman than thou takest him for.
Vincentio : Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well.
Lucio : Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee
[p]I can tell thee pretty tales of
the duke.
Vincentio : You have told me too many of him already, sir, if
[p]they be true; if
not true, none were enough.
Lucio : I was once before him for getting a wench with child.
Vincentio : Did you such a thing?
Lucio : Yes, marry, did I. but I was fain to forswear it;
[p]they would else
have married me to the rotten medlar.
Vincentio : Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.
Lucio : By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end:
[p]if bawdy talk
offend you, we'll have very little of
[p]it. Nay, friar, I am a kind
of burr; I shall stick.
Previous: Act 4 - Scene 2
Next: Act 4 - Scene 4
